


Gay!...I Mean Hey!

by alliaskofyou, TryingToMystrade (TryingToScribble)



Series: Friends, Foes, and Festivities [25]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Boys In Love, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Misunderstandings, Pretending to Not be in a Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 02:43:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13137435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alliaskofyou/pseuds/alliaskofyou, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TryingToScribble/pseuds/TryingToMystrade
Summary: You can imagine the Christmas dinners...





	Gay!...I Mean Hey!

“What exactly are the rules again?” John sits next to Sherlock, across from Greg and Mycroft. Mycroft forcefully types on his phone with one hand and holds Greg’s with the other. The latter stares out of the window, oblivious to John’s question. John nudges Sherlock expectantly.

 

Sherlock shrugs off John’s nudging. He is sat ridged in the seat, staring at his brother. “We can start with no touching.” He huffs in frustration and then winces and gives John an apology with sad puppy eyes.

 

“What my brother means,” Mycroft begins without looking up from his phone, “Is that our parents detest what we are, but wanted to meet the people we spend so much time with. Touching is fine where appropriate and no more.” He tugs on Greg’s hand to pull him into the very important conversation they’re about to have.

 

“Oh, right, sorry.” He offers Mycroft a small smile and squeezes his hand to apologize. “Please continue.” 

 

Mycroft smiles sweetly at him but the moment is ruined by a snort from Sherlock. “None of those sickly looks, either.” Sherlock spits. Mycroft glares.

 

“Says you, brother dear.” Comes the quick retort. 

 

“Boys, please.” John gives them each a stern look. “Why can’t we just admit to your parents that we’re together? The worst they could do is revoke their invite and then you wouldn’t even have a family Christmas party to attend, and Greg and I wouldn’t get dragged along as moral support.”

 

The Holmes brothers flinch in unison and share a look.

 

“When Mycroft says they detest what we are, he does not speak in hyperbole. We have never explicitly told them of our differing sexualities to ‘the norm’ because they constantly expressed their distaste for the ‘frivolous gays’ in their lives.” Sherlock clenches his fist in his lap and he doesn’t pull away again when John takes one of them. He pretends not to notice Greg kissing his brother’s knuckles. “If we were to bring it up in conversation now, I fear we wouldn’t just lose our invitation to dinner.” He will not say what he actually means, which is far too close to his fear for losing his family. “Anyway,” he brushes off theatrically, “how do you suspect it would arise? Hello Mummy, could you pass the sprouts, also I’m gay and in a sodomous love affair with the man you just took the potatoes from?!”

 

John grimaces. “I can see how that’d be problematic. You obviously have both of our support,” he looks at Greg who nods his agreement.”

 

\---

 

The car pulls to a steady stop. Sherlock takes a deep breath to gather strength before he lets go of John’s hand and removes himself from the car without looking back.

 

Mycroft is less reserved in what he sees as a farewell, pulling Greg towards him by the back of the neck for a thoroughly devastating kiss. To build his own resolve he needs something that will last through the next week that is Christmas day.

 

He leaves Greg who looks incredulously at John. “How the hell am I supposed to not touch him after that?” 

 

John barks out a laugh as he climbs out after Mycroft. Greg reluctantly follows. The brothers are halfway inside, being smothered by hugs from their mother.

 

“And these must be your friends! Welcome, welcome!” Mrs. Holmes beams at both of them. Greg looks at Mycroft who gives him a forced smile. 

 

“Hello, Mrs. Holmes.” Greg sticks out his hand but is instead pulled into a tight embrace.

 

Mr. Holmes appears over his wife’s shoulder. “She won’t accept you calling her anything other than Wanda, son.” He says with a light chuckle.

 

John steps forward and extends his hand to Mr. Holmes. “Nice to meet you, sir. I'm John.”

 

Mr. Holmes shakes John’s hand. “And you can call me Greg.”

 

That earns him the shocked expression of two confused guests. Greg spins his head to shoot a questioning glance at Mycroft but the man is purposefully not looking in his direction.

 

“Me too.” Greg offers along with his extended hand. Mr. Holmes raises an eyebrow much like his sons do, and nods.

 

Oblivious to other goings on, Wanda switches places with her husband and wraps John in a comforting hug before he can turn his own accusing glance at Sherlock. She pulls back and heads into the house, expecting everyone to follow her. “You’ve all come just in time. Dinner is ready!”

 

They all do as expected, although Sherlock and Mycroft trail behind reluctantly.

 

“Such a lovely spread, Mummy.” Mycroft comments as he enters the dining room to fill the silence that is no doubt only awkward to him. “You didn’t have to go to so much trouble.”

 

Wanda waves her hand at Mycroft as if pushing the words away before they reach her. “Nonsense! My boys are home for the holidays!” Then she ushers everyone to take a seat. “I can be over the top if I want to be.”

 

“Thank you for welcoming John and me to your family dinner.” Greg almost pulls out Mycroft’s chair for him but realizes his mistake and awkwardly shuffles to the one next to him. 

 

“Of course! We’ve been eager to meet Myc’s and Sherlock’s friends.” She shares a knowing look with her husband.

 

Mr. Holmes rolls his eyes and starts dishing out his servings so the rest of the table take that as permission to have their fill. 

 

John starts to pile turkey onto Sherlock’s plate. Sherlock immediately senses John’s oversight and looks helplessly at Mycroft. 

 

The glance between the two brothers does not go unnoticed by Wanda Holmes. “Sherlock, why don’t you go to the kitchen and grab the Yorkshires? I forgot to get them out of the oven.” 

 

Sherlock nods and leaves the room. John watches him and stands, setting his napkin on the table. “I’ll help.” He nearly trips over the chair in his haste to follow.

 

“Well, then,” Wanda peers at Greg curiously, “you’re a detective inspector, correct?”

 

Mycroft gives Greg a warning look to not act as poorly as his brother and John. Greg tries to stifle his chuckle in a sip of wine. “Yes ma’am.” Mycroft reaches across Greg to grab the mashed potatoes. He hands them to Greg next, pausing slightly when his fingers brush Greg’s.

 

Wanda watches her son’s face as he freezes for a fraction of a second. She listens to Greg tell of his morning at work but her attention is on Mycroft who gazes at Greg with eyes full of admiration, hanging on Greg’s every word as if it was gospel.  

 

Greg is interrupted by a sharp burst of laughter and a deep chuckle that float from the kitchen. 

 

Wanda takes one look at her husband who raises a curious eyebrow and throws her napkin on the table with a glare at a startled Mycroft. “William Sherlock Scott Holmes get in here this instant, but don’t you dare forget those Yorkshire puddings.”

 

An alarmed Sherlock and a giggling John emerge from the kitchen carrying the Yorkshires. John sets them on the table in front of Wanda.

 

“Both of you sit,” she commands and John and Sherlock quickly settle into their seats. John sobers immediately.

 

“You honestly can’t believe your father and I are this stupid, can you?” She folds her hands on the table and peers down at her sons. 

 

“I’m sorry, ma’a-” John attempts to apologize. 

 

She turns her glare on John. “I was not speaking to you, young man, although you have a role in all of this.”

 

“Mumm-”

 

“Sherlock, hold your tongue.”

 

Greg opens his mouth, but Mycroft promptly places his hand over it. 

 

“I don’t know why you boys think you could keep such a secret from your father and I. I don’t know whether to be more hurt you believed we couldn’t figure it out or that you thought you had to hide your partners from us in the first place.”

 

Silence descends over the room while everyone stares at Mrs. Holmes in shock.

 

Mycroft, ever the diplomat, is the first to speak.

 

“Mother.” He says with conviction. “Kindly lower your voice.” He looks her right in the eyes as he sneers his next words. “You know why we hid this from you, why we hide ourselves from you. You and father have made your thoughts on the matter very clear.”

 

Greg grips the hand that was previously covering his mouth and Mycroft doesn’t fight it any longer.

 

“Gregory is my-”

 

“Your partner, yes, I know.” Wanda interrupts. Mycroft scowls.

 

“No. Gregory is my life.” He hears Greg gasp but he carries on, knowing Gregory is supporting his every word. “I want to spend every moment with him and come home to him and wake up with him. I want to live with him and marry him and have children with him. None of this is going to be stopped by your old-fashioned, backwards, disgusting view of people who are different from yourselves. I want no part in it any longer.”

 

Mycroft moves to stand and take his Gregory with him but a choked sob from his mother stops him.

 

He squares his shoulders and stands tall so that his next words will not be misconstrued. His mother speaks first. “That was beautiful.” She sniffles.

 

Mycroft blanches and sits back down in shock. “Excuse me?”

 

“That was far more beautiful than Gregory’s proposal to me.” She chuckles at her husband’s apparent approval. Greg, John, and Sherlock all look to Mycroft who blushes a deep scarlet.

 

“But Mycroft and I heard you - when we were teenagers - call our neighbours the “frivolous gays.” Sherlock stumbles over his words, staring intently at his mother. 

 

Wanda stares back, realisation dawning and softening her features. “Oh, my boys.” She sighs sadly. The silent Mr. Holmes pats her shoulder in comfort as he leans forward to give his own explanation.

 

“You were both so young when we knew that lovely couple, I can understand why you might have seen it that way if that’s when you were coming to your own conclusions.” He offers a slight smile to his confused boys. “The times we had together with the neighbours were definitely not for children.” He shares a look with Wanda. “So you weren’t made aware of some of the friends we made, and that meant you didn’t hear all of the jokes we shared. One of those jokes being that everyone who knew them called them the ‘frivolous gays’. It was their couple name. What do the kids call it nowadays? Ship name?” He finishes explaining, looking for forgiveness in his eldest’s eyes. “We never meant any harm by it, but we can see now that we caused a whole world of it. Us Holmes lot are very smart, but we’re far from clever when it comes to love. We observe but do not  _ see _ . I’m sorry.”

 

Wanda, dabbing her eyes throughout all of Mr. Holmes’ explanation, finally breaks the silence that follows with a teary, “I’m so sorry that you never felt you could truly be yourselves around us, and all because of a blasted misunderstanding.” She stands, straightens her dress, and opens her arms wide. 

 

Sherlock and Mycroft stand and take turns receiving a much-needed hug from their mother. 

 

Sherlock steps back with smiling eyes and a playful smirk. “John, don’t expect an accidental proposal as well.” John’s bright laughter is silenced by Sherlock’s persistent lips.

 

Mycroft scowls so that his blush doesn’t show. He lashes out. “Just because mummy knows of our relationships, doesn’t mean you’re free to snog John at the dinner table!”

 

Sherlock doesn’t desist but raises one hand to flip his brother off. Mycroft squawks in indignation and has to stop himself from stamping his foot.

 

Then, Greg makes him a hypocrite.


End file.
